


Hear the Song of Gentle Mourning

by WaltzQueen



Category: Pyre (Video Game)
Genre: Female Reader, Gen, Post Ending, Spoilers, Telepathy, unbetad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-23 23:08:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12518672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaltzQueen/pseuds/WaltzQueen
Summary: They all hurtA sequel to Many Happy Returns





	Hear the Song of Gentle Mourning

Shes looking looking out into the Spring of Joumer, running her fingers through her hair. The lush grass cradles her gently in the humid night air. She can hear the sounds of pots and pans rattling and clanging from inside the blackwagon, behind her. Jodariel's raiment is too big for her but she misses her today so she's wearing it. The horns are coming in quickly, Oralech says. She believes him. It took Jodariel 12 years to grow hers. It's only taken six for her own to show up. They're already bursting through the delicate skin of her forehead, She can't imagine what shape they'll be. She's sitting, eyes closed, imagine the shapes of things to come, when she hears him.

  
He's still calling her Reader, of course. Like she was never anything else. But it was all he knew her as from the start so she supposes she can forgive him this. After all, it's the only thing she'll ever forgive him.

  
Brighton is halfway to demon , himself despite only being back in the Downside for seven months. Almost as if whatever was rotten in him had only ever just hidden below the surface and was now jumping at its chance to be more.

  
"Reader, how fares the weather, hm?" his voice is as scathing as ever, if deeper now, with his demonhood. The faux genial words only exacerbating the effect. "Is the Scared Spring of Joumer treating you kindly? Helping the skin perhaps." She is not giving him the satisfaction of worrying her fingers over the raw skin where horns were poking through. Not that he could talk. His eyes had already been leeched of color within the first moon's turn. His own horns were half as long as Oralech's.

  
Her hand goes back down, eyes till closed. She can hear him snarl when she says "If you touch me again,  will call Oralech." It's not so much a threat as a reminder. Brighton- no, Androbeles- had become so used to being cruel that he couldn't help it. Or at least, that's why she imagined he kept striking out at her,violating the rules of the Rites he adored so much and the code of honor for those that had ever shared a Blackwagon. Even after the first time Volfred pinned the Voice down in place or the first time that Oralech intervened, he radiated malice.

  
They could have gotten rid of him. He was by far, the most hated being in the downside, barring the Titan Stars which stole everyone's already fleeting chance at freedom. He had been the one to put most if not all of them in the Downside in the first place. He had scorned, ridiculed, hurt and taunted almost every last exile, even those that hadn't placed enough faith in the stars to seek their freedom in the rites. Leaving him alone to die in the River Sclorian would have been so easy.. But they didn't. Instead they picked him up like a sorry-wet log and dragged him inside to sit and watch the despair in his eyes fuse with the core of him. Right down to the soul.

  
Maybe it was a mistake in the long term. After all, she now had him wandering around telling her that she could have been the next Voice, how she had ruined everything.  Still, despite the obvious flaws, with the sound of the Voice ringing in her ears, it almost felt like she were in a rite again, moving Nightwings back and forth. She thinks about Hedwyn, Rukey and Jodariel, about Gilman, Pamitha, and *ae. She heaves a deep sigh.

  
The sun is rising and the light of the Spring is slowly being subsumed by the light of the dawn. Better drag this asshole inside and get a move on.

  
"Oralech," she calls, softly, barely above speaking level. The clanging in the wagon behind her stops and the door swings open with a signature creak. She opens her eyes to watch the water drop off the tail of the dead titan as Oralech approaches. Out of the corner of her eye she sees the Voice flinch as Oralech looks him over. Androbeles maintains a safe distance as Oralech comes closer to her. The look he gives her is far more welcoming.

  
"Is it time to go?" His hand warms her shoulder to the bone, comforting and kind. It is a doctor's hand to the end, even if clawed. She nods, silently. He lifts her up, picking her up as easily as a child would a paper boat. They head inside, and she is glad to note that he has still left the door open. It closes shortly as Brighton slips back inside, very aware of the flimsy belonging he has in what was, at one point, his home. Oralech sets her down in her chair, stuffed with Pamitha's stray feathers and covered in Jodariel's Howler skinned rug. Ti'Zo is already napping in his nest. She's too tired to eat tonight, so she falls asleep quickly to the gentle murmurs of Volfred and Oralech chatting before sleep.

  
A sound wakes her. It was not an uncommon sound before. The Nightwings each had troubles, of course they did. If they hadn't they would not have been in the Downside. Thusly sometimes they would cry out into the darkness. Soft whines and mournful chirps and aching sobs. This sound was no different. She turned her head to see the Voice, tearfully drawing the stars of the scribes with his finger against the glass of the window. She looks, bleary eyed and hesitant a long moment before she Reaches Out To him and fills him with peace. He jerks, as if struck, and promptly falls asleep without the anguish keeping him up. She tucks the HowlerSkin back under her chin she considers that even he needs peace, as she falls asleep.


End file.
